The rustic door was open before them.
Its locks—
Busted.
Laying on the ground to the right.
A draft—
Blew.
Feeling heavy, as if no life could exit from there.
Jean reached for the cracked open frame, pushing the door inward.
She looked down into the dark corridor.
"There's no light in there."
Jean pressed her wrist, turning on a small fluorescent light that faintly outlined the metal floor with a white glow.
Art copied her, walking past her to enter the old area.
"Let's find Kane."
Jean nodded as she followed her.
The lights—
Scanned.
Moving left and right slowly.
Art's attention—
Paused.
On the strange vegetation.
"How are there roots down here?"
Jean glanced vertically, stopping her light on abandoned cobwebs and moss growing on the ceiling.
"I don't know."
The two continued descending further into the unknown following the seemingly healthy roots.
A path—
Split.
Separating right and left.
Jean pointed to the left, moving her wrist in front of her.
"The roots are coming from this direction."
Art shifted her view to the right.
"I think we should check here first…"
Her light touched a far wall outlining two closed doors.
"...there are rooms over here."
Jean aligned her shoulders with the top of Art's head, looking past her.
"Roger."
The two walked down the short hallway, stopping between doors on both sides.
A metal wall was a few feet before them, with no path to continue.
Jean turned to her left.
"I'll check in here."
Art did the opposite, facing her back to her.
"Then this one is mine."
Jean stepped forward, reaching for the rusted handle.
Her hand—
Turned.
Snapping it off.
She exhaled, dropping the crumbled lever.
I guess…
Her legs—
Tensed.
As her heel slammed into the door.
The hinges—
Busted.
Jean lowered her foot as Art turned to face her.
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Sorry, the handle busted."
Art sighed.
"Carry on."
Jean walked over the collapsed door, guiding herself with white light.
Tubes—
Protruded.
Draping from the ceiling above.
A small—
Cabinet.
Rested above a single table.
She walked over to the cabinet, pulling it open.
A thin notebook rested next to an empty vial stand.
Jean reached for the dusty cover, brushing off the grime to get a better view.
The cover—
Faded.
Its words were completely erased.
She opened the book, clicking her tongue as she flipped through yellow pages.
All the words are gone or unreadable.
The last page—
Turned.
Revealing the back of the cover.
Her eyes—
Twitched.
Stopping on a single line.
—Insti—Num—02.
Jean closed the notebook, scanning it with a faint green light before returning it to the shelf.
That number… is like that figure from before.
She turned towards the exit, moving towards her.
Art's eyes—
Narrowed.
Looking through a small window.
Her hand rested on the surface of the door.
There's no handle.
A white—
Pulse.
Flowed through her veins.
The room—
Outlined.
Giving her a clear picture of black and white.
It's a…
Art took a small step back, placing her finger on her chin.
…bedroom?
The room—
Ordered.
Containing a desk and bedframe.
A still clock—
Rested.
Next to a homburg.
Art was lost in thought, pointing her light at the ground before her.
Jean tapped her on the shoulder.
"Did you find anything?"
Art breathed, composing herself.
"Nothing. How about you?"
Jean shook her head.
"Only the number 02."
Art focused ahead, looking back to the intersection a ways down.
"Strange…Anyway, let's continue."
Jean followed Art's lead, walking through the cold, desolate hallway.
Their lights provided a clear path as they stepped over roots and crouched beneath dirty cobwebs.
Their strides—
Stopped.
Between another set of doors.
Art looked to her left at a dark room.
"Same as before?"
Jean faced the second door, turning opposite of her.
"Yeah."
Art pointed her light into the small room, outlining an operating table in the center.
Worn straps—
Fastened.
Next to bloody clamps.
The white sphere shifted to the table on the right.
Surgical tools—
Spread.
Their tips pointed and serrated.
Art walked further in, moving to a hanging cabinet.
What happened here?
Her hand—
Reached.
Pulling the handle.
Art's eyes—
Widened.
Rusted forceps—
Sat.
Inside glass jars.
Alongside other surgical tools.
Decayed flesh—
Fused.
Onto the ends of scalpels.
Art closed the cabinet quickly as her palm stayed on the door.
Her lungs panted, letting out air rapidly.
Did you know about this too?
She steadied her breathing, allowing her focus to return as she headed for the way out.
Jean stood before the door, resting her light on the frame.
A fracture—
Broke.
Causing there to be no handle.
Her foot—
Slammed.
Trying to bust the door open.
Its hinges—
Stayed.
As if the door was never meant to fall.
She shone her light through the small window, shaking her head.
I can't see anything.
Footsteps approached her.
"What'd you find?"
Jean stepped to the side, turning to face Art.
"I can't see past this window."
Art placed her hand on the door.
"Let me try."
The room—
Pulsed.
Showing her its outline.
Its walls—
Cracked.
As they had been struck by a hammer.
Barbed wire—
Surrounded.
Circling the center of the room.
Containment cuffs—
Destroyed.
As if something escaped from captivity.
Art's hand lowered as her veins returned to normal.
"The room was destroyed."
Jean's eyebrows twitched.
"Anything else noteworthy?"
Art looked up at her.
"There was barbed wire across the ceiling and floor."
Jean's shoulders—
Twitched.
Her eyes—
Lowered.
No way…Right?
Art took a step closer to her.
"Are you okay?"
Jean's gaze slightly lifted, looking at her.
"Yes."
Her face—
Pale.
As she turned away from Art.
She began walking towards the source of the roots.
"We should continue."
Art's hand clenched briefly before extending outward.
"You're right."
She continued behind Jean, walking through an open double doorway.
Their lights—
Traced.
Moving in different directions.
Dead grass mixed with the rusted metal floor beneath their feet.
A circular platform hovered above them as rails were posted on its edge.
Jean looked around at the many different hallways.
"What is this place?"
Art's light—
Stopped.
Outlining a dead tree.
She moved closer, looking down at the oak stump.
"It seems like some sort of garden or park."
Jean stopped behind Art, pointing to the platform above.
"How are we going to find Kane with all these doorways?"
Art crouched, placing her palm on the ground.
"Give me one moment."
Her veins—
Surged.
A glowing white.
The surroundings—
Pulsed.
Looking for a sign of life.
A single—
Ping.
There.
Art's head lifted as she stood from the ground, dissipating the white light.
She pointed to the furthest corridor.
"He's down there."
Jean nodded.
"I'm going to record some images of this area."
Art signaled okay with her fingers before heading in the direction of Kane.
Jean turned to different angles, as a light flashed from her wrist on and off.
The air—
Shifted.
Around the hallway.
As if it didn't belong down there.
Art shone her flashlight, walking into the darkness.
Her ears—
Twitched.
The sound—
Separated.
As if it was moving slower than usual.
A doorway—
Appeared.
To her left.
Her light—
Illuminated.
Warping around a dried patch of blood.
This room…
A bedframe—
Sat.
With no mattress.
…doesn't feel right.
She turned, moving a second later.
Art descended down a straight staircase.
Her body—
Tensed.
As if something unnatural stood before her.
White light—
Outlined.
A standing figure.
Kane was—
There.
His hand—
Raised.
As if it rested on a surface.
The air—
Shifted.
In front of him.
As if something should be there.
Art's eyes—
Distorted.
Trying to make out the space before Kane.
She called out.
"Kane."
"..."
No response.
Her voice echoed again.
"Kane."
Mhmm.
A grunt—
Sounded.
Art sighed as she began to turn around.
"It's time to leave."
Her presence—
Moved.
Growing distant from Kane.
He stayed—
Motionless.
Focusing his attention before him.
His arm—
Down.
Already at his side.
Jean stood next to the stump, waiting for Art to return.
Her attention turned to the sound of walking as she positioned her light in the same direction.
"Did you find Kane?"
Art paused before her, hooking her thumb next to her.
"He's right here."
The light—
Flickered.
Unnoticed by Jean's eyes.
Kane's figure—
Outlined.
As if he was always in the light.
Jean twitched back.
"I didn't see you there."
Art began to walk past her, motioning towards the exit.
"We should get going."
Jean followed after her.
The two shifted away.
Kane—
Stayed.
The oak stump—
Contorted.
Bending in shape.
His chains—
Aligned.
The crack—
Consumed.
Removing the stump.
Like it was never there to begin with.